Warning to 2016: Just two more weeks to drop the class without penalty.

We're in the waning hours of January, and I gotta tell you, New Year: you're on double-secret probation. I can't say for certain that you've already failed, but you're in some significant need of extra help here.

Not all has been bad, but plenty has, and plenty more has been weird.

On the good sides:

Work's been okay for both of us. Not great, not bad. Plus, at least for me, some seeds got planted that could turn around the rest of your first quarter grade. But watch it- no slacking.

Earlier today, I got Cameron's taxes unofficially done, with a decent refund, a couple weeks after doing Emily's with similar results. Now all you need to do is make his W-2 materialize so I can make his official.

John Scott takes the NHL All-Star ice within the hour. Although the league idiots finally caved to public pressure, he revealed late last week just how hard they worked him to bow out- at one point, an unnamed suit asking him, "Do you think this is something your kids would be proud of?" At least the asshat was smart enough to ask that over the phone- he likely would've had his lights punched out (dim though they may be) if he'd pulled that remark in person. ETA: John Scott scored two goals in his semifinal game, and after his team won the 1-0 final, they named him the All-Star MVP and awarded him a car. The NHL commish was roundly booed for being a jerk. Bettman, lifetime suspension, being a jerk.

We've been well entertained, largely without leaving the house. I finished exactly one read for the month after starting January BBC-bingeing, but I have the second loaded and ready to start tomorrow. The Sherlock one-off, and the foursome of Endeavours, were well done, as were the two very different films from 1997 and 2014 that marked the beginning and end of Alan Rickman's directing career.

Yes, 2016, I'm getting to my biggest problem. You worked double-overtime shifts taking good and talented and beloved people from us.

Not just Rickman, of course. Bowie. Monte Irvin (a Hall of Famer from 50s baseball and the third to follow Jackie Robinson across the color barrier). Jim Simpson, who along with Sandy Koufax broadcast the first World Series I ever watched on television in 1967. Ted Marchibroda, who essentially designed the offense that put the Bills in four straight Super Bowls. In the music world, Bowie was followed by local country legend "Ramblin Lou" Schriver, Glenn Frey, and just the other day, the heart and soul of Jefferson Everything, Paul Kantner.

Oh, and Brian Bedford. A friend from near Stratford, Ontario mentioned his passing at 80, for he'd been a longtime actor and director in its Shakespeare festivals. He also voiced Robin Hood in the 70s Disney version shown in the icon.

Christ, you even took Abe Vigoda. Have you no decency?

Then there's the weird, which can be summed up in two words: Weather and Republicans.

We've had one significant snowfall here all month, after having none in December (or earlier). It's virtually all melted as we look toward another 40F-ish week here. Meanwhile, unsnowy places spent days of discomfort and danger about a week ago. Not only is this weird, but it just gives climate-change-deniers some ammunition to throw at their stupid supporters. Stop it.

While you're at it, stop them. Iowa kicks off tomorrow, and by the end of next month we'll likely have putative winners on both sides being pundited. I can't say I'm thrilled with anyone on either side, although most of the GOP field scares me to death.

Best I can recommend for now, though, is a vote for Bernie:

So that's your early report card. Don't make me have to call home on you: